


Safe Place

by WholockHobbit88



Series: Little Sherlock and John [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ABDL, Adult baby, Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Daddy John, Emotional Trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, baby sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a criminal that Sherlock helped to put in jail escapes from prision, Sherlock begins to regress heavily and John knows that something isnt right. John does everything that he can to take care of his little boy and help uncover the trauma that is triggering his episodes of fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“If you don’t stop screaming, I will come in there” John said in annoyance, the sound of a strangled cry ringing in his ears. “I’ve told you once to be quiet and I will not say it again, Sherlock” 

John could see Sherlock from where he stood at the top of the stairs; he was sitting crossed legged on the mat, crossing his arms in frustration as he stopped screaming. He couldn’t tell that John could see him and John was honestly surprised that he had stopped screaming. When he had placed him on the naughty mat, he had warned him that if he didn’t stop screaming he would give him a spanking. There was a part of John that wondered if Sherlock, even little Sherlock, relished the spankings. John didn’t threaten him with them very often for that very reason; usually when he threatened a spanking, Sherlock would rush to do whatever it was that he wasn’t supposed to do. 

Even from where John stood, he could see Sherlock’s shoulders shake with silent sobs before he fell deliberately face forward into the mat, completely defeated. John felt sympathy stir in his heart for his little boy become stronger than the pain that he felt in his arm where Sherlock had bitten him. 

John was finally beginning to feel like his and Sherlock’s little relationship had become as normal as it was ever going to be. Though he knew in the back of his mind that it was strange for him to be babying his adult flat mate but he had long since stopped trying to define what they had. He enjoyed it, Sherlock enjoyed it and that was all that mattered.  
And Sherlock did enjoy it; even now when he was sobbing on the naughty matt, he desired this and craved it. Under other circumstances, John would have immediately spanked Sherlock for biting him; Sherlock had done that only one other time. And maybe he should have punished Sherlock more; maybe he was craving that. But under the circumstances, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

John rubbed his arm one last time, looking at the bite marks before pulling his sleeve down. He walked down the stairs and over to the mat in the corner where Sherlock was sobbing. His head was down, his bum stuck in the air; John could see his white nappy barely peeking out of the top of his flannel pyjama pants. John resisted the urge to take Sherlock in his arms and apologize for putting Sherlock here, knowing that Sherlock desired punishments and consequences and needed John to be strict. 

“Sherlock……sit up and tell daddy why I put you on the naughty mat” John said in a stern voice, kneeling next to Sherlock. 

Sherlock sat up, tears running down his red face, his dark curls falling into his eyes. He stared at John for one second before he threw himself at John, wrapping his arms around John’s neck and putting his legs around John’s waist with surprising force. Sherlock squeezed him tightly, too tightly as he pressed his face into John’s neck, continuing to cry. John felt alarm bells ring inside his head. This was not normal behavior for Sherlock; he was used to Sherlock arguing or trying to sweet talk his way out of a punishment. This was nothing of the sort; this was genuine desperation for physical contact and affection. It wasn’t something that John saw out of Sherlock that often and he knew it was important that he proceeded with caution. 

Under the circumstances and with Sherlock’s behavior, John abandoned further discussion of the punishment; it wasn’t what Sherlock needed right now. “How about we go to bed and have a cuddle?” John suggested in a calm voice as he rubbed Sherlock’s back. He felt Sherlock’s back shudder as he took in a breath. When he pulled back, Sherlock’s face was red and smeared with tears and snot. He nodded, his lip jutted out in the way that made John’s heart melt. 

“Well, then let’s get up and into bed” John said with an overly cheerful smile as he wiped Sherlock’s tears away with his thumb. He helped Sherlock climb up and lead him back to his bedroom. 

Sherlock had had a rough day, even by his strange standards. Lestrade had called this morning and told them George Grey had escaped from prison in the early morning hours. Grey was a criminal that Sherlock had helped to put away. A little over a year ago, Sherlock had gone undercover to help bring down Grey’s drug smuggling ring. Sherlock had succeeded and ultimately had sent ten men, including Grey to prison with very long sentences. Grey had a particularly harsh hatred for Sherlock and Lestrade thought it best to alert him that he was on the streets. Though he didn’t act as though it wasn’t that much to worry about, they both knew better. Grey could be hunting him down at this moment to get his revenge. Needless to say, Sherlock had been shaken. He had done well to hide it, though he had almost immediately slipped into little space. He’d gone to his room in silence and when he hadn’t returned, John had gone to check on him. He’d found Sherlock sitting on the floor, his toys scattered all around him. When John had asked him if he wanted to talk about the incident with Grey, that’s when Sherlock had bitten him. 

John led Sherlock back into his own bedroom, avoiding the multitude of toys that had obviously been thrown on the floor in frustration. Sherlock lay down on his side, pulling his green blankie to his chest from where it laid on the bed. John lay down on the bed behind him, putting his arm around him and spooning the larger man. Sherlock was crying again, though he was trying to muffle it in his blankie. John kept one arm firmly around him, the other smoothing out his curls comfortingly. He hated seeing Sherlock in pain; he couldn’t stand to see his little boy upset. He wanted to do something but he knew right now this was all that he could do. John was more than a little alarmed by the reaction from Sherlock; this wasn’t the first time he’d had criminals after him. More often than not, he laughed at such people thinking they could get the better of him. But right now, Sherlock was genuinely scared and John was worried of what the reason could be. 

John lost track of the time and the two had almost fallen asleep when John felt his mobile ringing in his pocket. He didn’t want to answer it, but when he scooped it out of his pocket and saw Lestrade’s number, he knew he should answer it. 

“Hello” John said, coughing to keep the grogginess out of his voice. 

“John” Lestrade said quickly as if he was in a hurry. “I need you and Sherlock to come down. We are at one of Grey’s old safe houses. We think he has been here today and I want Sherlock to see if he can find any clues to where he might be going next” 

John looked at Sherlock, who had finally calmed and was near sleep, his face buried in his blankie. “Do you really need him right now? Cant someone else help you out this time?” John asked. Sherlock needed his little time right now. John was hoping that if he could keep him little, he might be able to convince him to talk more in depth about what was bothering him so deeply about this case. 

“Sorry, John, it’s really has to be him…..he’s the expert when it comes to Grey, having successfully infiltrated him for weeks like he did. He’ll know where he’s going next” Lestrade said. 

John sighed heavily. “Alright…..we’ll be there soon” he said reluctantly before he hung up the phone. He deeply didn’t want to disturb Sherlock but he knew he didn’t have a choice. 

“Sherlock, you have to get up” John said gently, putting his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Lestrade needs you to help him; they are at one of Grey’s old safe houses and he needs your help” 

“Don’t want to” Sherlock said in a whiny, childish tone, his eyes still closed. 

“I know you don’t want to, sweetheart” John said apologetically. “but you really have to go”

“Don’t want to…..want to stay here” Sherlock said.

John flipped over Sherlock on the bed so that he could see his face. He pulled Sherlock’s blankie back so he could look at him. “I know you want to be little and you deserve to be after what happened” John said understandingly. “But right now, just for a little while, daddy needs for you to be a big boy. And I promise, the second that we get home, you can be a little boy again. Okay?” 

Sherlock’s eyes were glassy as he looked at John. “Okay, daddy” he reluctantly agreed. 

John gave him a smile. “That’s a good boy” he said. He got off of the bed and went to Sherlock’s closet to give him some clothes to put on. When he returned, Sherlock was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He remained slack and apathetic as John removed his pyjama pants but when John’s hands went to his nappy, Sherlock pushed him away.  
“No!” Sherlock said angrily in true toddler fashion, pushing his hands.

“Sherlock, daddy’s got to get you dressed so you can be big” John said but Sherlock didn’t move his hands. “Can’t put your pants on without taking your nappy off”

“Leave it on” Sherlock said his voice little. He covered his nappy almost protectively. 

“What? You want to leave your nappy on and go out?” John asked in confusion. It was not a normal request for him. Sherlock never mixed his littleness and work.

Sherlock nodded. “Please?” he said. 

John was becoming more alarmed. Sherlock never wore his nappies out in public. After John had found his own fetish for nappies, he’d worn them out under his clothes plenty of times, but this was different for Sherlock. His littleness was something that he kept completely to the privacy of their flat. If he wanted to wear his nappy under his clothes, to a crime scene of all things, then his need to be little was greater than it ever had been. It made John worry but he kept his face neutral. “Sure, sweetie” John cooed with a smile. John gave Sherlock’s nappy a check before announcing, “Well, it’s mostly dry so we’ll just put your trousers over it.” John finished dressing Sherlock the rest of the way, having a nagging feel in the pit of his stomach that this evening was not going to end well.


	2. Chapter 2

“He was here, two, three hours ago” Sherlock said in his strong and deducting voice. His head was up in the air, looking like he was examining the air itself as he spoke to Lestrade. “It was just him…..no one was with him. All his conspirators are still in jail so that will put him in a disposition. He won’t have his normal connections to lean on”   
Sherlock walked across the wet, dirty floor, crouching down and stooping to examine a seemingly normal puddle on the floor. He didn’t speak but his face was crunched in concentration. John watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be concerned. Sherlock had pulled out of little headspace the moment that they had left the flat and he had remained completely professional throughout the examination. But every time John heard the rustle of his nappy, so low that only someone who was looking for it would hear, he worried. Sherlock wasn’t alright; his little boy wasn’t alright and he worried just like a parent would.

“He left in a hurry” Sherlock announced, still staring at the puddle, confusing the others around him as usual. “He was very anxious to leave. Did you say that you didn’t find anything else in the house other than the furniture?” 

The safe house was a small, extremely dilapidated structure that was leaking and slowly being reclaimed by nature. The only items that appeared to be in it were a few chairs and tables that looked older than John. There was little else in the structure and Sherlock had seemingly been concerned about this. 

“No” Lestrade said, watching Sherlock curiously. “Most of the items in here were confiscated when we did the drug raid on this place. There are a few items of clothing over there on the table but other than its empty” 

Sherlock stood up and walked over to the table. He rifled through the clothing, none of them holding much interest. Under the clothing was a thick, plain chain; when Sherlock came to this, his expression changed completely. John could see the color drain fully from his face, making him deathly pale. His eyes widened in a look of horror, dropping the chain. 

“Sherlock? Do you see something?” Lestrade asked, noting his change. 

John felt alarm making him queasy when Sherlock turned and fled from the room. John followed as quickly as he could but by the time he had ran out of the building, Sherlock was already in the alley by the house, crouched down, his head down, his hands on the back of his head. The sight of it made him sick. 

“Sherlock…..what’s going on?” John asked, rushing forward and kneeling down on his knees in front of Sherlock. “Sherlock…..look at me……talk to me” 

Sherlock kept his face buried for a long time but when he looked up at John, his face was red, his lip jutting out in little fashion. “Take me home, daddy” he said, his voice cracking. He was trying really hard to be big, to not cry but it was taking everything that he had. 

John knew that they should stay here, but when his little boy pleaded like that, he couldn’t say no. “Alright, sweetie. I’ll tell Lestrade you’re not feeling well and we’ll go home” John said, his heart breaking. 

…….  
Sherlock’s head leaned on John’s shoulder in the cab; he was scooted as close to him as he could be without being in his lap. The cabbie looked at them with a look John didn’t care for, one people often looked at them with but John could hardly care. Sherlock was in no state to be adult right now and John just wanted to get him home. 

When the cab stopped at 221B, John quickly paid the cabbie and climbed out of the car. Sherlock seemed to be in a daze he stepped out of the cab and John took his hand, leading him toward their building. John noticed a small, distinctive wet spot on the front of Sherlock’s trousers from a leak in his nappy and John felt guilt stir in his caregiving heart. 

When they got into their flat, John led Sherlock to his room at once. They were both silent and John could feel the heaviness of the situation. Sherlock was deeply troubled and what he needed most now was to get changed and go to bed with a good cuddle. 

“Alright, love, let’s get you out of those clothes” John said with unnecessary cheeriness as he helped Sherlock sit down on the bed. Sherlock sat down, his expression empty and vacant. John went to the drawers and retrieved one of his onesies, knowing Sherlock was already feeling particularly little. Sherlock didn’t wear the onesies very often and John was particularly fond of them. Along with onesie, he grabbed a nappy and bottle of powder and came back to the bed. 

Sherlock was already lying down, apparently in position to be changed and dressed. He was clutching his blankie, looking a little more at ease but still upset. 

As John began to undress Sherlock from his adult clothes, he began to sing one of Sherlock’s favorite songs in an effort to help him calm down. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away” 

Sherlock’s face relaxed as he listened to John sing; he almost smiled at one point. John noticed goose bumps pop up on his skin once he had undressed him, left in nothing but his nappy. John set out to make quick work of the nappy change and get Sherlock into bed. John opened Sherlock’s full nappy, alarmed that Sherlock had continued to wet it past bursting, almost as if he wasn’t properly paying attention to it. John cleaned Sherlock up with some wipes, smiling as Sherlock giggled before lifting his bum up slightly to put a clean nappy under him. He sprinkled some powder on the inside before taping it securely closed. John continued his song as he pulled the onesie over his head, sliding his arms in the sleeves before closing the snaps between his legs. John picked up one of Sherlock’s dummies off of the nightstand, popping it into his mouth. Despite the sadness of the evening, John had to smile at the cuteness of his little boy. 

“Now, baby’s all ready for bed” John said with a grin. He pulled back the covers on the bed and helped Sherlock into the bed. He tucked the covers around him tightly before he climbed into bed behind Sherlock. He was reaching around to spoon him when Sherlock surprised him by turning around, looping a leg over his own, his arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

“Oh, my little one is feeling cuddly tonight, huh?” John said in surprise. It wasn’t an unpleasant surprise. 

In response, Sherlock further surprised him by putting his hand on one of John’s cheeks, pulling him toward himself. Sherlock landed a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. “I love you daddy” he said, his voice childish and full of emotion. 

John’s heart swelled inside his chest. He and Sherlock loved each other and they had for a long time. They didn’t love each other in the way that everyone assumed they did; what they had was better and deeper than that. But love wasn’t a word that they threw around easily. He had told Sherlock he loved him once and Sherlock hadn’t ever really said it so blantenly; not until now. It wasn’t something casual between them; it meant something. 

“I love you too, baby” John said, holding Sherlock close. He let the silence drag on for several minutes, listening just to the occasional suckle from Sherlock’s dummy, before he spoke again. “Sherlock, can you tell daddy why you got so upset this evening?”

Sherlock was quiet for a long time and John thought he wasn’t going to speak. “I was scared” Sherlock said in a little voice around his dummy. 

“What were you scared of?” John asked gently, rubbing Sherlock’s back to encourage him to talk. 

“Him” Sherlock said, a tremble in his voice. 

It was not common for Sherlock to fear things, especially the criminals he put away. Sherlock had to have a good reason for being scared of George Grey. “Why are you scared of him?” John asked. 

“He…..he’s bad” Sherlock said, clutching John a little tighter. 

“What did he do, Sherlock?” John prodded. He hoped that Sherlock would keep talking; he spoke of his feelings when in little space like he never would in adult headspace. 

But Sherlock was done; he cuddled up to John’s neck, pulling his blankie over his face. He didn’t speak anymore and John didn’t force him. He hoped with time Sherlock might share more; right now, he just wanted him to have a good night sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up to the sound of a whimpering cry. It was dark in the room and he fumbled around on the nightstand for the lamp, hitting it several times before he succeeded in turning it on. He was alarmed when the light came on and he could see Sherlock sitting up in bed, holding his hands out, a puddle of vomit in his lap. Sherlock was crying as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. Just as John was about to ask him what happened, Sherlock’s body shuddered violently again, spilling his stomach on the bed. 

“Oh, sweetie……are you getting sick?” John asked in concern, rubbing his eyes. 

Sherlock was whimpering again, too tired to cry loudly. He just looked at John with a plea in his eyes.

“It’s alright…..don’t cry” John said, his muscles aching slightly as he got out of bed “We’ll get this cleaned up. You’re fine” 

Sherlock calmed a little at John’s encouragement but he made no movement to do anything. John grabbed the bin and began to clean up the sick as much as he could before he took the blanket off of the bed. He dropped it into a crumbled heap on the floor before helping Sherlock out of bed. 

“Come on, baby” John said gently. “Let’s get you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up” 

John helped Sherlock down the hallway and into the bathroom, setting him on the toilet before grabbing a wet cloth to wipe him down with. He ran the cloth over his mouth and neck before cleaning his hands. His clothes were luckily untouched and he didn’t need to change them. 

“Does your stomach still feel sick?” John asked, running his hand through Sherlock’s curls affectionately before putting his hand on Sherlock’s forehead. He didn’t feel hot, he didn’t have a fever and John was surprised. 

“No” Sherlock said slowly, leaning into John’s touch. He leaned his head against John’s chest. “I had a bad dream and then I got sick. I’m not sick now”

“What was your nightmare about, sweetie?” John asked him, rubbing his back as Sherlock leaned into him. 

“The bad men……I saw them again and I don’t want to” Sherlock said, a tremble of fear in his voice. 

“It was just a dream” John said, holding Sherlock close. “It was just a dream and no one’s coming to get you. I promise. Do you want to tell daddy what happened in your dream?” 

John had expected Sherlock to refuse his invitation to talk but he hadn’t expected the respond that he got instead. Sherlock pulled away from John immediately, hands over his head as if shielding himself from terrifying force. “I’m not telling….you can’t make me tell……” he muttered under his breath, fear dripping from his tone. 

“Okay….okay…..you don’t have to tell me” John assured him, backing away to give him space. “I’m not going to force you to talk but I’m here if you ever do want to talk” 

“No….no…….please no!” Sherlock said. “I can’t!”

“It’s alright, Sherlock” John said frantically, wishing he hadn’t asked. “Let’s just back to bed, yeah?”

Sherlock shook his head for several more seconds, rocking back and forth before he finally looked up at John. “Yeah” he said, appearing to calm down but his face was drawn and pale. John helped Sherlock up and led him back to his bedroom. 

“Does you nappy need changed?” John asked Sherlock as he laid down on the bed. Sherlock didn’t answer him, he just stared up at him, a blank look on his face. It worried John; again, it was like he really wasn’t paying attention to it. John felt the front of Sherlock’s nappy for wetness but it seemed mostly dry so he climbed back into bed after grabbing a clean blanket to put over them. 

Sherlock had found his dummy and popped it back into his mouth; the moment that John lay down in bed, Sherlock scooted next to him. Sherlock faced John, pressing his face into John’s chest. He seemed calm and John wrapped his arms protectively around Sherlock. Luckily, Sherlock was asleep again soon but John stayed awake for a long time. He was worried, and growing more so by the minuet. Something bad had happened to Sherlock, there was no doubt about that. He just hoped that his little boy would open up to him so that he would be able to help him better. 

…….  
When John woke up the next morning, his arms were instantly reaching out and searching for Sherlock; even his sleep had been troubled by his worries about Sherlock. The bed felt cold next to him and when he opened his eyes, he saw that Sherlock was gone. John initially took it as a good sign; if Sherlock wasn’t still clinging to him, then maybe he was out of little space and feeling better emotionally. 

John walked out of his bedroom and down the hallway toward the sitting room. He only had a few seconds to enjoy the quietness of the flat before he realized in alarm why it was so quiet. 

Sherlock was sitting on the floor of the sitting room, facing the wall, broken crayons strewn everywhere while Sherlock scribbled violently on the wall. John felt panic and anger at the sight of the half of the wall covered in multicolored wax; sure, Sherlock had once shot the wall, but this was actually much worse. If Mrs. Hudson saw this she would have an absolute fit, not to mention they’d have to explain why there was crayon all over the wall. 

“Sherlock! What are you doing?” John yelled. Sherlock dropped his crayons, jumping slightly at the sound of John’s voice. He looked back at John for a moment, then turned back to his drawing. He didn’t answer John’s question but went back to coloring. 

John walked over to Sherlock and snatched the crayons out of his hands. “Hey!” Sherlock said indignantly. 

“Sherlock, why are you drawing on the wall?” John asked, pointing to Sherlock’s colorful creation. 

Sherlock shrunk down on the floor, looking embarrassed. “I…..I don’t know” he said sheepishly. 

Normally, this is the kind of behavior that Sherlock would exhibit when he wanted a punishment. Though Sherlock would deny it, John knew he enjoyed his punishments and sometimes intentionally pissed John off to get one. Normally, John would throw him on top of his knee right now and give him a good spanking. But he was still too worried about Sherlock; part of John really believed that Sherlock didn’t know why he did this. 

“Sherlock, we do not color on the walls and you know that” John said in a stern voice (though not the ‘captain’s voice’ that would make Sherlock tremble). “That was not right. You know better than that. Go sit on the naughty mat”

Sherlock’s exterior crumbled, his lip trembling. John thought he would argue but after a minuet Sherlock stood, shoulders slumped as he stomped off toward the naughty mat, the sound of his nappy crinkling loudly under his onesie. 

John watched Sherlock until he saw him actually sit down on the mat; he wasn’t convinced Sherlock would actually do it without seeing it for himself. When Sherlock had sat down on the mat, crossing his arms angrily, John walked to the kitchen to make him and Sherlock some breakfast. 

Not wanting to leave Sherlock too long and knowing it would be hard to get Sherlock to actually eat anyway, he poured some cereal and made toast, and started a pot of tea before he went back into the sitting room to retrieve Sherlock. When he saw what Sherlock was doing in his absence, he felt his irritation rise. 

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock had gotten off the naughty mat and went back to the wall, scribbling on it again. When John yelled his name, Sherlock dropped the crayons and tried to scurry back over to the naughty mat as it wasn’t too late. John caught Sherlock’s hand and stopped him. Sherlock was asking for a punishment now. John felt sorry for him in light of what had happened; he really was very worried. But this was over the top misbehavior and John was fairly sure that Sherlock actually wanted to be spanked. Sherlock had never gotten up off the naughty mat when John had put him there before. 

“Sherlock, I told you to sit on the naughty mat because you colored on the wall” John said harshly. “And you didn’t listen to me still; you colored on the wall again when you were supposed to be sitting on the naughty mat.” Sherlock was looking at John with a glassy, unphased expression on his face. John decided to give Sherlock a bit of his ‘captain’s voice’. “Sherlock, you were very naughty and daddy is not happy” he thundered. 

The effect of his tone was almost instantaneous; Sherlock’s face crumbled and he was already in tears when John gave him a firm smack on his bum. Sherlock proceeded to throw himself in the floor, sobbing and kicking his legs. John knew it was the most innocent spanking he’d ever given Sherlock; his nappy was so thick (and overly full, he needed to be changed) that it couldn’t have possibly hurt. But Sherlock was wailing like John had smacked him in the face. 

Normally, John would have been concerned about Sherlock’s wailing; but the over exaggerated way he was kicking and screaming told John it was needed. Sometimes, Sherlock sought out misbehavior and punishment because he needed an outlet for his feelings and ample emotions. 

John leaned down next to Sherlock. “Sherlock, daddy loves you very much but I had to spank you because you weren’t listening” John said in soothing voice as Sherlock’s cries got louder. “When you have calmed down you come in the kitchen and have some breakfast”

John left a sobbing, emotionally spent Sherlock on the floor of the sitting room and went into the kitchen to eat his breakfast. Sherlock screamed almost the entire time; he was surprised that Mrs. Hudson didn’t come to see what was the matter. After John had finished eating and was sipping the last of his tea, he could hear Sherlock’s cries begin to waver off. A few minutes later, Sherlock came shuffling into the room. Sherlock’s hair was a wild crown of curls around his head, his face pale and eyes bloodshot, wiping tears off of his face. He held his head down and looked at John with only occasional glances, as if he had been beaten down. Sherlock hovered at the end of the table as if he didn’t know if he should approach John or not. 

“Are you ready to come sit down and talk to daddy?” John asked with a small smile, encouraging Sherlock to come to him. Sherlock lifted his head, looking at John shyly before he shuffled over to John. He took John by surprise when he climbed up onto John’s lap. It was slightly awkward, sitting in the small chair that way, but John couldn’t refuse him. Sherlock sat down on John’s leg, leaning his head on John’s shoulder, his arm looped around John’s neck. 

“Sorry I was a bad boy, daddy” Sherlock said quietly, his voice husky from his screaming. 

It was enough to melt John’s heart; he gave Sherlock a tight hug. “You aren’t a bad boy” John assured him. “You just made a bad choice. You’ll have to help daddy clean that mess up later. Mrs. Hudson would have both of our necks over that.”

Sherlock gave a sigh. “Okay” he said tiredly. 

John pulled Sherlock’s cereal and toast over toward him. “Here, how about you eat something.” He encouraged. 

Sherlock pointed from the food to himself. “You do it” he said, his sounding even smaller. 

“Alright, I’ll do it” John said. It was a bit difficult since Sherlock insisted on staying on John’s lap but John didn’t mind feeding Sherlock; he always ate more that way. As it was, Sherlock still only ate about half of his food before he was wiggling off of John’s lap and scurrying into the sitting room. John cleaned up the breakfast dishes before he walked into the sitting room, afraid he might find Sherlock doing something naughty again. He was relieved when he walked into the room and saw Sherlock curled up on the couch watching cartoons. 

“Okay, little mister, you need to get your nappy changed before you get too into your cartoons” John said encouragingly. Sherlock simply curled further onto the couch and didn’t move. John moved so that he was standing in the path of the telly. 

“Hey!” Sherlock protested, sitting up and craning his neck to get a better view of the telly screen. 

“Hey yourself” John teased. “Your nappy needs changing”

“No it doesn’t” Sherlock argued determinedly. 

“Yes it does” John argued. “If you use it anymore you’ll end up with your onesie wet. You can either let me change your nappy or I’ll just take it off right here and then you can just go to the potty the rest of the day. Is that what you want to do?” 

Sherlock gave John a look that could have killed; he hated the potty in his little space. “Fine” he huffed. He held out his arms. “Hold me”

“Hold you?” John asked, walking over to Sherlock who was reaching out toward. “You mean carry you to the bedroom?” 

Sherlock nodded, sticking his lip out. 

“Sherlock, I couldn’t possibly carry you like that” John said. Sherlock began to pout and John felt bad for him. It was not a request he had ever made; even in little space, Sherlock knew what was physically possible and what was not. 

“Tell you what” John said. “I’ll go get the nappy and powder and I’ll just change you right here, okay? Then you can watch your programs” 

Sherlock seemed pleased by this compromise. He smiled broadly. “Okay!” he said, settling back onto the couch as John turned around and went to his room to get the nappy and powder. When he came back, Sherlock was sitting passively, looking calm which comforted John. Sherlock needed some time to simply sit back and get away from whatever emotions he was feeling so strongly that he wouldn’t let out. 

John spread a blanket down on the floor. “Come here little one” John said, patting the blanket. Sherlock scrambled off of the couch and climbed down onto the blanket. His gaze went back to the telly as John began to start on his nappy change, his thumb in his mouth. John made a mental note to retrieve a dummy for Sherlock after he got changed; Sherlock preferred using a dummy over his thumb, which he would use if he had to. John changed Sherlock’s nappy quickly, leaving his onesie on, deciding to change it later when he gave Sherlock a bath since he didn’t seem to have any objections to wearing the babyish clothing. 

“Alrighty, all done” John said when he was finished, giving Sherlock’s bottom a firm pat. Sherlock looked back at him and smiled before sitting up and climbing into John’s lap with no apparent intentions of moving anytime soon.


	4. Chapter 4

The day had been a bad one; John should have known by Sherlock’s display on the sitting room wall what kind of day it would have been but he was not prepared. By the time that John finally convinced Sherlock to get into the bathtub and get ready for bed (a monumental task in itself) he was completely exhausted and spent. 

John knew that Sherlock was looking for attention, that much was very apparent. But had Sherlock just asked for John’s attention in desirable ways he would have given it to him. For some reason he had felt the need to act up to get attention. After Sherlock had thrown his cup of juice at lunch because it was the wrong kind of juice, grabbed John’s phone and changed the password to it (which he refused to tell him for 3 hours) and dumped all of his Legos in the living room floor and refused to pick them up, John was sure that he wasn’t just doing this for punishment. John hadn’t had a second to himself all day; Sherlock insisted on staying by his side at all times and would cry if he even thought John was leaving him. He wouldn’t even let John go to the bathroom by himself. When he had gone into the bathroom to relieve himself after their heavy dinner of Mexican take away, Sherlock had cried in the hallway until John had left the door cracked while Sherlock sat by the door. It was awkward for John but he was growing worried. 

Sherlock was scared; John could tell that. The idea of Grey being on the lose obviously terrified Sherlock; it was apparent in the way that he had stayed regressed almost the entire time since he had found out and how he wouldn’t let John leave him. But since Sherlock refused to talk about it, getting extremely upset if John even mentioned it, all John felt all he could do was take care of his little boy until something changed. 

Sherlock had definitely not wanted to go to bed; he’d made that clear by the amount of splashing he had done when John had undressed him and forced him into the tub. He had whined the entire time that John had washed his hair and body. John had tried to leave him to have some playtime alone with his tub toys but Sherlock had just flung himself, sopping wet, at John; it was a no go. 

So, they had cut the bath short and John had helped Sherlock out of the tub. He was whimpering and on the verge of tears when John mentioned going to bed so John had given him one of his more babyish toys, a circular rattle ring with a teether attached to it. John was actually surprised when Sherlock took it and began to nibble on the teether end, surprised that he was that easily placated. John had dried Sherlock’s hair and was beginning to dry his arms and chest when John felt a growing, warm, wet patch on his clothes. Expecting to find himself covered in even more water than he had originally thought, John looked down. What he found instead was much more alarming. 

Sherlock was pissing himself and the worst part of it was that he didn’t seem to even notice. Sherlock was just standing there, urine running down his leg, his eyes completely unfocused as he nibbled on his toy. It was like he didn’t know he was doing it. And that really scared John. 

“Sherlock” John said carefully so that he didn’t scared Sherlock. 

“Hmmm?” Sherlock mumbled around his toy, his eyes darting around the room. 

“I think you need to use the toilet” John said gently. 

Sherlock finally seemed to notice what was happening. He looked down at the growing puddle on the floor. “Uh…..oh” he said, his voice rising in panic. John could see that it scared him too; he really hadn’t known it was happening and it frightened him. John didn’t want Sherlock to know that he was scared too; it would only make it worse. 

“I’m sorry…..I…..I…..didn’t…..” Sherlock was mumbling, looking so small and vulnerable that John couldn’t resist the urge to pull him into a hug. 

“It’s alright, sweetie” John assured him. “Accidents happen; it’s no big deal. We’ll just clean you up and put you in a nappy so you can relax, okay?”

Sherlock still seemed upset but he calmed noticeably at John’s words. He began to suck on the teether again as John used a towel to dry Sherlock off. He threw the towel over the puddle of urine; he could clean up later when Sherlock wasn’t looking at it like it was a terrible omen. John helped Sherlock back to the bedroom, sitting him down on the bed as he went to retrieve a nappy and Sherlock’s pirate footie pyjamas. Sherlock didn’t pay much attention to John’s actions as he put the nappy and pyjamas on, seeming to be much more interested in his teething toy. Once john had dressed Sherlock for the night, Sherlock began to whimper; no doubt he was scared of the nightmares from last night. Noticing Sherlock’s very infantile state, John said. “How about daddy makes you a bottle before bed?”

Sherlock sniffled but nodded his head. Much to John’s surprise, Sherlock stayed put on the bed as John went to the kitchen to make a warm bottle of milk. Though he enjoyed these times when Sherlock was particularly infantile, they also made him worry. Infancy wasn’t his chosen state and if he was falling that low it was often because he was bothered about something. That, combined with his apparent incontinence made John really worry about Sherlock’s mental state. But right now, all be could do was give his little boy a bottle and rock him to sleep and that’s what he would do. 

When John returned to Sherlock’s bedroom he found Sherlock laying on the bed still, clutching his blankie and nibbling on the teether. “Look at my cute little boy” John cooed as he looked down at Sherlock. He tickled Sherlock’s belly and Sherlock giggled, glowing under John’s praise. “Daddy is so lucky to have such a cute, good little boy” John said as he sat down on the bed. Sherlock immediately climbed into John’s lap, smiling at the praise. Sherlock remained silent, his actions growing more and more infantile. He curled up into John’s lap as John propped up some pillows so he could support Sherlock’s head with one arm and hold the bottle with the other. With some repositioning, Sherlock settled into John’s lap, John pulling him close as he put the bottle to Sherlock’s lips. The second that the nipple reached Sherlock’s mouth, he took it hungrily into his mouth and began to suck. 

John was beyond worried about his little boy but as he fed him, he was able to forget it for a moment. For a moment he was able to get lost in the simple action of watching Sherlock suckle on the bottle, their eyes fixed on each other. It was times like this, when Sherlock never even spoke that he felt the closest to him. When Sherlock’s mouth didn’t move, his eyes did all the speaking. He was scared; fear shown deep in his eyes. But there was also trust there; he trusted John to take care of him and keep him safe. John knew that his faith was not unfounded; John would do anything possible to protect Sherlock. He always had, even before he was Sherlock’s daddy. He had been devoted from day one and his loyalty had only grown over time. 

After too short of a time, Sherlock drained the bottle of the last of the milk, the nipple making a sucking sound as he tried to pull more liquid from it. John pulled the bottle away from Sherlock, whose lip pouted out slightly. “All done!” John declared as he put the bottle down and moved Sherlock so that he was sitting against his chest, face on his shoulder. He patted Sherlock’s back until he let out a small burp, rubbing Sherlock’s back after he had burped. “Now that you’re all fed, time to go to sleep” John said. Sherlock’s reaction was almost instant; he grabbed onto John tighter, his legs and arms a vice around John. Sherlock was obviously afraid of the nightmares. 

“Sherlock, calm down” John cooed, patting Sherlock’s back. “Daddy is right here. I’ll make sure you are safe.”

Sherlock continued to whimper but he lessened his hold enough that John was able to detach Sherlock from him. He laid Sherlock down on the bed, lying beside him, propping his head up on his arm, his other hand rubbing Sherlock’s chest comfortingly. Sherlock’s hands clasped around John’s arm, holding on tightly. “Don’t leave” Sherlock said, his voice sounding smaller and more vulnerable than John had ever heard it before. It made John’s heart crumple into a thousand pieces. 

John put his forehead on Sherlock’s. “I’m not going anywhere. Daddy will always be here for you no matter what” he said with as much conviction as he could manage to show. Sherlock’s grip increased, holding onto John like a life raft.   
…….  
John awoke in the middle of the night, feeling cold and slightly wet. The lamp was still on (Sherlock hadn’t wanted it turned off) and there was a soft glow in the room. John realized that he didn’t have any covers on him and he was turned in the opposite direction of Sherlock. When John turned over he was hoping to find Sherlock still asleep and well; that was the furthest thing from what he actually found. 

Sherlock had apparently thrown all of the bedclothes off of the bed, along with his clothes. Sherlock was lying curled up on the bed, completely naked, his pyjamas and nappy in the floor. Sherlock was in the fetal position, shivering, the bed wet underneath him. 

“Sherlock, what happened?” John asked in alarm. He put his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, turning him around so that he could look at him. 

Sherlock’s face was even paler than normal, his eyes red from crying. He sniffled loudly. “I……I had a dream…….bad dream” he said shakily. “I got so hot…..took everything off……but then I was cold. I couldn’t get it back on” He whimpered slightly. “Then I…….had another accident. Please don’t be mad daddy”

John felt guilty that Sherlock would even think he could be mad at him at all. He wrapped Sherlock into a hug. “Sweetheart, daddy isn’t mad at you” he assured him. “I am concerned though…..why didn’t you tell me? You could have woken me”

“I didn’t want to…..you were asleep” Sherlock sobbed. “I wanted you to be able to sleep” 

“I don’t care about sleep” John assured him. “The thing I care about most is that my baby boy is taken care of. I never want you to be lying here, cold and afraid, without me. Especially if you have an accident” John was concerned that Sherlock had had another accident; his mental state was obviously very frail. 

“Okay” Sherlock said smally. He sniffled again. “Don’t make me go to sleep daddy…..can’t I stay up?” 

“It’s really late still…..you need your sleep” John said. 

“But it’s so scary in my dreams” Sherlock said, fear in his eyes. “Don’t make me go back to sleep”

John didn’t blame Sherlock for not wanting to sleep; John wished that Sherlock would talk to him about the dreams but he knew that if he asked he would probably get turned down again. Suddenly, an idea came to him that might just work. “You know what, Sherlock? Daddy has a good idea what we can do”


	5. Chapter 5

“A fort?” Sherlock asked around his dummy, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He clutched his blankie to him tightly, clad in a fresh nappy and footies. “Are we going to lie down in a fort?”

John smiled; he could see the idea excited Sherlock and it was exactly the response that he had been hoping for. “Yes we are” he said. He watched as Sherlock dropped to his knees and scurried into the fort crawling. 

After John had cleaned Sherlock up and put him in a nappy and pyjamas, he’d made Sherlock stay in his room, much to his distress but he’d stayed put because John said it was a surprise. John had quickly made a blanket fort out of cushions and blankets and pillows, whatever he could get his hands on quick. He was hoping that it would not only make Sherlock feel easy enough to sleep, but he was hoping he might use it to convince the little detective to talk about what was scaring him so much. 

John got down on his knees and crawled into the fort, finding Sherlock already lying on his back, staring up at the top of the fort, a smile on in his face, sucking vigorously on his dummy. 

“Do you like it?” John asked, lying on his back beside Sherlock. 

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. “Daddy makes the best forts ever” he said happily, popping his dummy back in when he had stopped talking. 

“I’m glad you like it” John said with a smile. “I made it for you because forts are the best thing for feeling safe, you know”

“They are?” Sherlock asked curiously. 

“Yes, of course they are” John said in exaggerated agreement. “Nothing can get into a blanket fort but daddies and little boys”

Sherlock turned his head toward John, smiling around his dummy. “Nuh uh” he said. “You’re silly, daddy”

“No, I’m not” John said in defense. “It’s called fort magic. It knows if you’re a little boy or a daddy and if you’re not, you can’t get in” 

Sherlock laughed lightly but he didn’t argue it. John turned to face Sherlock fully on his side. “You know what else is good about forts?” John asked. 

Sherlock turned toward John, taking his dummy out so he could speak better. “What?” 

“Forts are the perfect place for telling secrets” John said. “You can tell someone a secret in a fort and no one else will ever know” 

Sherlock toyed with the edge of his blankie; looked nervous. “I don’t want to tell any secrets” he said. 

“If you tell daddy secrets, though, you’ll feel better” John insisted. “And it’ll all stay inside the fort” 

Sherlock nibbled on the corner of his blankie while he thought. “You tell one first” he said, his big, glassy eyes looking into John’s. 

“I don’t know what kind of secret to tell” John said. “You know most of my secrets because you’re such a smart little boy and you figure them out before I can tell you. What would you like to know?” John couldn’t imagine that there was a stone unturned that Sherlock couldn’t deduce about him. 

Sherlock tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmmm” he said before his lips turned into a smile. “Do you ever do naughty grown up things in your nappy?” he asked. 

John felt his cheeks grow warm; the cheesy grin on Sherlock’s face told plainly that he knew the answer to that and just wanted to hear John say it. “I don’t think that’s the sort of question a little boy needs to be asking his daddy” John tried to pawn the question off. 

“You said this was for secrets” Sherlock insisted, a smug grin on his face. “You’re not going to tell?”

John felt his face turn an even deeper shade of red; he knew Sherlock was playing him. If he didn’t tell, Sherlock wouldn’t talk. “Fine……yes. Sometimes daddy does naughty things in his nappy” he relented. Sherlock began to giggle; the rotten little thing.

“Alright, funny funny” John said trying to wave off the incident. “I told a big secret, now you have to”

Sherlock stopped laughing and began to rub the blankie across his face. “What secret?” he asked nervously. 

“Daddy wants you to tell him what the bad men did to you to make you so scared” John said in his softest voice possible. Sherlock’s lip trembled slightly and John rubbed his hand along Sherlock’s arm comfortingly. He didn’t want Sherlock to start crying again. “Sherlock, you are so very brave. Things never scare you and so when something does, I want to make it better”

Sherlock’s eyes watered, a crocodile tear rolling down his cheek. “I…..I’m really scared…….I’m, afraid he’s going to come back…….and get me. I know…..he wants to because I put him in jail.”

“But you’ve had bad men after you before and it never scared you” John said. “So what makes this any different? You always catch the bad people, Sherlock because you are so very good at what you do”

Sherlock wiped at his tears, his eyes immediately spilling more tears. “He did really bad things to me…..when he found out……I was a fake” he admitted, his lip trembling.   
“What kind of bad things?” John prodded gently. 

Sherlock paused for a long time. “He…..he…..he tied me up” he said, his voice scared. “Tied me so I couldn’t move…….hit me…..beat me……hurt me so much…….I was so scared” Sherlock began to weep quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever get out. I wanted to get away…….I felt so little……but I had to hold it in.”

John’s heart broke as Sherlock dissolved into tears. He pulled Sherlock to his chest, rubbing his back as he sobbed uncontrollably. It made sense to him now; Sherlock was afraid of George Grey because he had tortured him. While undercover, he’d found out Sherlock was a fake and had made him pay for it physically. He could only imagine how scared he must have been. John remembered when Sherlock had returned from that mission; Sherlock had hidden himself in his room for three days, not speaking to anyone or coming out. John hadn’t known about Sherlock’s little side at the time but it made him sad to think that he had had to console himself after such an ordeal. 

“I’m so sorry all of that happened to you, Sherlock” John said soothingly. “That was a terrible thing for you to have to deal with and I’m so sorry that you had to do all of that. They’ll find him and he won’t be able to hurt you.” 

Sherlock cried for a long time before he finally pulled back from John’s chest and looked at him. “Don’t let him hurt me” Sherlock said, his eyes filled with fear. “It was the most scared I ever was……don’t let that happen again”

John put his hands on Sherlock’s face, looking into his hands. “You are right here with me and I promise nothing can happen while you’re with me” John said with conviction. “Don’t I always protect you? Hasn’t Daddy always protected you? Even from day one…….but you’ve got to tell me things so I can.”

Sherlock’s face relaxed slightly as he hugged John. “Thank you daddy…..thank you for protecting me” he said as he squeezed John tightly.   
……..  
The next morning when John woke up, he felt his face muffled by something warm and fluffy. Opening his eyes, all he saw was a blanket; he pushed it off of his face, sticking his head out and realizing that the blanket fort must have fallen down at some point in the night. The blankets and pillows were crumpled on the ground as he sat up and looked around. John’s thoughts instantly went to Sherlock and he quickly located him on the floor, his top half sticking out of the blankets. His dark curls were wild around his head, a contrast to the white blanket he was lying on. Sherlock’s face was calm, relaxed, his dummy moving slowly as he sucked it in his sleep; John was glad to see that Sherlock was still comfortably asleep; he definitely needed it. 

John heard a knock on the door and scrambled up quickly to answer it. He saw Mrs. Hudson standing at the door in her dressing gown, smiling warmly at him. “Ah, John…..good morning” she said. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Hudson” John greeted her, standing in the doorframe so that she wouldn’t see Sherlock asleep in the floor clad in footed pyjamas. 

“Is Sherlock awake yet?” Mrs. Hudson asked gently. 

“No, he’s still asleep “John said. “What do you need?”

“That Mr. Lestrade fellow is at the door asking for him” Mrs. Hudson said. “I assume since he’s here so early it must be important” 

“I’ll go talk to him. Thanks” John told her before trotting down the stairs. He opened the front door and slipped outside, finding Greg standing on the sidewalk in the chilly morning air. His hair was ruffled and his clothes slightly unkempt. No doubt he’d been keeping very busy with trying to locate George Grey, especially since Sherlock hadn’t been on hand like he normally would have been. 

“Morning Greg” John said, his breath coming out in little clouds. 

“Morning John” Greg said tiredly back. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“He’s asleep” John said. “What do you need?”

“I need you to wake him up and come down to the station” Greg said. “I don’t want to say we’re at a loss without Sherlock but we really need his impute on this.”

John knew that they would probably get the case solved a lot quicker with Sherlock at the reins but all he could think about was how upset Sherlock has gotten when he’d tried to help the last time. John had finally gotten Sherlock to open up and he wanted to help Sherlock more, not set him back. “He’s not well. He needs to stay home” John said simply.   
“He can’t come in, even to look over some evidence?” Greg asked beseechingly. 

In the past, John would have given in and went in to wake Sherlock. But now Sherlock wasn’t just his friend; he was his little boy and he needed John to look out for him. “No, he really can’t” John insisted. “He’s really unwell. Maybe tomorrow” 

Greg sighed and cursed under his breath. “Fine” he said tiredly. “I guess we’ll have to get on without him. Let me know if anything changes; we can really use him. Hope he feels better”

“Thanks” John said before bidding Greg goodbye and walking back inside. He climbed the stairs, thinking about what he could make for breakfast to entice Sherlock to eat. When he walked into the living room, he stopped short. Standing next to Sherlock, looking at him as if he was just as adorable as a newborn infant, was Mrs. Hudson. 

John felt his stomach twist, anxiety grabbing at his throat; Sherlock would kill him when he woke up and found out that John had left the door open and allowed Mrs. Hudson to find out his secret. “Uh…..uh……it’s not what it looks like” John said quickly, his palms growing sweaty as he looked from his footie clad, dummy sucking flat mate. 

Mrs. Hudson looked up from where she was gazing lovingly at Sherlock. “And what do you think I think it looks like, John?” she asked gently. 

John felt his face flush as he looked at Sherlock and the mass of blankets. “Uh……it’s nothing bad or weird” John said, his voice highly defensive. “It’s just …..just…..”

“Well, why would there be anything weird about you taking care of Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asked, her voice soft as she walked over to the couch and had a seat. John followed her, sitting down apprehensively. 

“Yeah……but he’s……he’s…..” John couldn’t quite say ‘he’s acting like a baby’. 

“Oh, come on John” Mrs. Hudson said with a small laugh. “I haven’t been living under a rock my whole life. That is hardly the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen” 

John felt himself relax slightly. “It’s not?” He knew he’d not exactly taken it very well when he had found out and he was surprised that Mrs. Hudson wasn’t reacting worse. 

“Of course not” Mrs. Hudson said. “I think it’s cute, honestly. We all knew all along he was just an overgrown baby. I think it’s really sweet, you caring for him like that. Sherlock’s a brilliant man, but his brand of genius comes at a price. He can’t run as fast and hard as he does most of the time without having something to fall back on. I’ve worried about him for a long time; I was glad when you came along to watch after him. Now, I know you’re taking even better care of him. I know he must be a handful” she gave him a small wink. 

John laughed. “I try the best I can” he admitted. “He can be a little monster some of the time……or a lot of the time. But he’s not too bad.” He looked over at his little boy, stirring in his sleep on the floor. “He’ll be so embarrassed though that you found out” 

Mrs. Hudson gave a wave of her hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine. Who would I tell?” she asked with a laugh. 

John laughed. “Won’t stop him from going mental over it” he said. He looked over at Mrs. Hudson with a smile. “Thanks for being understanding. Some people might get the wrong idea.”

Mrs. Hudson grinned. “Don’t they always get the wrong idea about you two?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading reviewing my story :) All of guys keep me writing. This is the end of this adventure but there will be more little Sherlock and John soon to come!

John took advantage of Mrs. Hudson’s presence to take a shower. He hadn’t had one yesterday since Sherlock had been so clingy; Mrs. Hudson agreed to stay for a little while and make Sherlock feel at ease if he woke up. John was quite sure he was going to feel anything but ease when he saw Mrs. Hudson watching him but he needed a few moments to himself. He took extra-long, letting the water soothe his muscles; though he tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere, he kept going back to Sherlock. He hated that Sherlock had not only had to suffer the pain and trauma of being tortured, he’d kept in the pain and not told anyone for over a year. It couldn’t have been avoided but he wished that he could have taken care of him in the way that he really needed. 

John finished in the shower, taking time for a shave and to change his clothes before he returned to the living room. He was surprised to find Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen making breakfast. Sherlock was no longer on the floor; he wasn’t anywhere to found. 

“Feeling better?” Mrs. Hudson asked, sitting across from him and pouring him some tea. 

“Much better, thanks” John said, sipping his tea. “Sherlock was attached to me all day yesterday” John looked around. “Where is Sherlock?” 

“Oh…..he seemed rather embarrassed when he woke up” Mrs. Hudson said. “I explained to him that it didn’t bother me and he seemed to calm down. He went to go change; when he came out he was in his regular clothes. He said he had to go the Yard”

John almost spit out his tea. “What? He went into work?” 

“Yes…..is there a problem?” Mrs. Hudson asked in alarm. 

John felt worry swirling in his belly for Sherlock; for his little boy. “I just didn’t think he was going anywhere” John said. He didn’t want to explain the situation to Mrs. Hudson; he was sure that Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate it. 

John changed the subject and ate breakfast quietly with Mrs. Hudson. After she had gone back down to her flat, John tried to call Sherlock’s phone several times but he didn’t answer. He sent Sherlock a text: What are you doing? Are you alright? But he still didn’t receive an answer. He called the Yard but they told him that Sherlock and Lestrade were not in the office. Not knowing where they would be, John was left sitting around the flat worrying. 

John tried to watch telly, update his blog, read…..nothing could distract him. All he could think about was Sherlock and how he might be doing out on his own. He couldn’t imagine why Sherlock would go to the Yard after telling him how upset he was about Grey. John’s stomach twisted with guilt; he’d promised to protect Sherlock. How could he do that if Sherlock wasn’t even here?

Eventually, John just settled himself down on the couch to sit and stew over it. There was a time that he would have resented the fact that he spent so much time thinking about Sherlock. Before he had found out about Sherlock’s little side, he had spent an undue amount of time thinking about him and answering his beck and call; he’d forsaken every relationship he’d had for Sherlock. He didn’t realize it at the time but it was because Sherlock was special; what they had was something that he couldn’t have with anyone else. They weren’t friends and they certainly weren’t lovers; it was better than that. When he had found out about Sherlock’s little side, everything had changed. He’d gotten and outlet for his feelings for Sherlock. After a bumpy start, he had realized that it was fine to let himself care about Sherlock. Sherlock wanted to be cared for and John wanted to care for him; they weren’t hurting anyone and there was nothing wrong with wanting to give into it. Now, if he spent hours worrying about Sherlock he knew it was okay because he was his little boy and needed looking after, even when he wouldn’t admit it. 

After a few hours, John finally heard the loud clump of steps on the stairs. John jumped, heading toward the door as Sherlock came walking in the door. He looked normal; actually, he looked better than normal. Sherlock was dressed neatly, looking completely adult, his face at ease and relaxed. He was smiling broadly and carrying a couple of bags.   
“You’re back!” John said, feeling his tense muscle relax, seeing Sherlock appeared to be alright. 

“Of course I’m back” Sherlock said, smiling. He held the bags up. “I got some Angelo’s and your favorite beer. We’re celebrating!”

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, setting the bags down on the table. John followed him, watching Sherlock carefully as he pulled the take away out of the bags. As relieved as he was about Sherlock not being upset, he was so happy that it seemed like a very dramatic change from how he acted yesterday. “What are we celebrating?” John asked in an upbeat voice. 

Sherlock turned and smiled at him. “The case is solved” he said in triumph, surprising John by opening one of the beers and beginning to drink it. 

“You solved the case?” John asked, smiling himself. “You mean……Grey’s in jail?” 

John was expecting Sherlock to flinch or look upset at the name but he didn’t. “Yes!” he said triumphantly. “That’s why we are celebrating!” He tossed John a beer. “I’m going to go get changed and then we’re going to have a night in. I’ll even let you pick whatever idiotic program you’d like” 

John smiled at Sherlock; he was obviously ecstatic. Sherlock rarely drank and it was even rarer that he let John pick what they were going to watch. He just shared in Sherlock’s happiness; since Sherlock wasn’t little, he didn’t dote on him or cuddle him. He didn’t tell him how much he had worried about him. But as Sherlock walked down the hallway toward his room, John heard a very tell tell crinkle. 

……..  
John was surprised; it did actually turn out to be a normal guy’s night. Well, mostly normal; several hours later he and Sherlock sat on the couch, delightfully full of Angelo’s and beginning to get tipsy, only half paying attention to the telly. The only sign that gave away that they weren’t completely normal was when one of them shifted their weight on the couch and a crinkling could be heard. 

Sherlock had said surprisingly little about Grey since he had gotten home. Normally, Sherlock couldn’t resist bragging about how he’d solved a case. It wasn’t surprising; John knew Sherlock wouldn’t want to talk about Grey because he’d have to think about the torture again. But John couldn’t help but worry him; even though Sherlock was being adult John wanted to reach out to his little boy. Damn alcohol…..

“Sherlock….did everything go alright today?” John asked, finishing off another beer. 

“Yes. I thought that was fairly obvious in the fact that I solved the case” Sherlock said, his pompous voice sounding slightly off kilter. 

“Well, yeah but I mean……you had a bad day yesterday. I didn’t expect you’d be feeling so much better today” John said delicately. 

Sherlock paused for a long moment, keeping his eyes on the telly. “It was because of you. Obviously” he said. He was trying to use his normal voice but he stuttered a little. 

“Me?” John asked. He kept his eyes forward as well; he and Sherlock didn’t often discuss their feelings when they weren’t little. Of course, these days they spent most of their time being little. 

“What you did last night” Sherlock said. “You……really helped me. The talking…..it helped me” 

Sherlock didn’t like to talk about his feelings; John tried to keep it at a minimum but he felt a smile on his lips, knowing that he had helped his boy. “I’m glad…..that’s what I was hoping for” John said. 

“Talking about it really helped” Sherlock said, still not looking at John. “It freed up my mind. When I woke up this morning, I knew exactly where Grey would go. And I was right” 

“I’m glad……really glad” John said. “I’m glad I could help you figure it out” John paused for a long time, finally stealing a glance over at Sherlock. “So you’re okay?” John wanted to make sure that Sherlock was really okay and not just brushing it all under the rug again. 

“Okay……yeah, I’m fine” Sherlock said. 

“Because you can talk to me if you need to, about it all” John said. 

Sherlock nodded. “Grey’s where he needs to be again….I’m really alright” he said. “Though…..I have to wonder if you’re doing alright in all of this”

“Me?” John asked in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Sherlock looked at John, a sly smile on his lips. “Well, I just worry about you. I might have to leave you here alone with your nappy to have some adult time before you feel better”

John looked over at Sherlock, his face blushing as Sherlock started laughing. “You little bugger…..that’s what I get for telling you a secret in the secret fort?” He punched Sherlock’s arm as Sherlock dissolved into laughter. Though embarrassed, John couldn’t help but laugh; he had a feeling Sherlock was going to be just fine.


End file.
